


love you for all that you are

by livtontea



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: ?? i think, Domestic Bliss, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Feelings, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Intimacy, Love, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Not Beta Read, Purple Prose, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, use of the word lover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:20:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22646317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livtontea/pseuds/livtontea
Summary: Dirk’s closed eyelids tremble, like an autumn leaf quivering in the wind, like a butterfly’s wings flapping as it lands on a flower, like a gentle pattering of rain leaving streaks on the glass of a windowpane.
Relationships: Todd Brotzman/Dirk Gently
Comments: 10
Kudos: 44





	love you for all that you are

**Author's Note:**

> just some extremely nonsensical fluff i wrote instead of going to bed. enjoy!
> 
> title is from [head over feet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IKnz3kAwRu8)

Dirk’s closed eyelids tremble, like an autumn leaf quivering in the wind, like a butterfly’s wings flapping as it lands on a flower, like a gentle pattering of rain leaving streaks on the glass of a windowpane. His chest swells and deflates as he breathes, smoothly, softly, rising and falling like midday waves lapping at the sandy beaches they encompass, uncovering pebbles and shells and rocks with little holes in them that you can string a necklace out of and wear around your neck as you wade further into the ocean. Todd’s hand is a rice-bag weight on the valley between his chest and the jut of his hips, pressing down on smooth skin as fingers reach under fabric and caress the freckled paleness of flesh.

Todd’s legs are tangled together with Dirk’s under the covers, soft blanket reaching only up to the tops of their thighs at least and the bottoms of their hips at most, draping them in warmth and comfort, holding together brittle pieces from sharp splinters of glass that haven’t yet healed over—haven’t quite softened around the edges, but that are rounding more and more each day. Their legs are tangled, and further up in the narrow space between two chests, both on their side, both rising and falling in near-perfect sync, are hands lying on sheets pulled across the mattress, the base of it all; a hand relaxed with blunt-tipped fingers curving upward (an invitation), a hand with pale skin that nearly glows in the sunlight and slender fingers twining together with the other hand, tips resting on a wrist, palm holding a palm (an acceptance of the invite; an answer).

Another hand, joined with a wrist, joined with an arm, joined with a shoulder and joined with somebody who is just as gentle as his name—fingers resting between locks of hair, palm resting on the slight fuzziness of the back of Todd’s neck, thumb grazing the slight stubble on his cheek. Four hands, all together, all painting a picture that can only be described as the peaceful bubbling of a brook, as the flowers blooming at the bottom of a hill, as the way wings are seen through the transparent green of an emerging butterfly’s cocoon, and even then not be done justice.

Dirk’s eyelids tremble (like the flicks of a cat’s ears, like the warbling of a bluejay, like the gradual trickling of hot tea into a cup), taking eyelashes with them, mellow shadows thrown across his cheekbones and fading into the bridge of his nose. The smooth silkiness of the earliest morning light seeping through pale-colored curtains lands on his face, sending golden highlights to dance across his auburn hair, like the color of koi fish in a sunlit pond, scales radiant and smooth and completely captivating, completely enticing, drawing Todd in closer and closer until even if he wanted to look away, he couldn’t find it in himself to.

Todd lies awake beside Dirk, Dirk Gently, who is safe and sound in bed beside him, safe enough to allow himself to drop his guards (let the walls crumble, let the dams overflow, let the creaking gates in the fences around his heart fall open—even if it’s just for now), and simply lie in the glowing sun, eyelids trembling and casting thin shadows (like grass swaying in the wind, like willows dancing along in harmony, like moon-tinted sunbeams raining down from the sky) across the freckled surface of his face.

He allows his hand, the hand just under the hem of Dirk’s nightshirt, to drift higher, fingers pressing tenderly into the curve of Dirk’s spine, outlining the ridges of his shoulder blades. Dirk makes a noise in his state of limbo between sleep and the opposite, a pleased mumble escaping past his lips.

If he could paint, Todd would paint Dirk. He’d spend hours over a canvas, making sure that he picked the colors just right, smoothed the lines together right where he was supposed to, blended shadows together with light until he had a likeliness of Dirk looking back up at him. It wouldn’t compare to this, though, wouldn’t come close to conveying the way Dirk lies mere inches away from him, smiling slightly with just the corners of his eyes and mouth.

If he could write, he’d write about Dirk—trace rows of letters into his skin, wrap sentences singing his adoration into the plane of Dirk’s back, use the finest of brushes to decorate his thighs with nothing but the love he has to give. But Todd can do neither of those things, so he lets his hand dance feather-light across Dirk’s skin, tracing smooth muscle hidden by flesh, outlining scar tissue raised above the rest of the expanse of Dirk’s body.

Todd’s fingers twitch beneath Dirk’s, and the beautiful man in bed next to him mumbles something incoherent and shifts closer, hand closing over Todd’s in a firm fashion, in a way that says _I’m never letting go_ and _this is where I want to be_ and _I love you_ all at once. Todd squeezes back, and Dirk hums once more.

He feels Dirk’s fingers rub small circles into his scalp, little signs of affection imprinting in the back of his skull. He feels the callused palm cupping his cheek, feels the tips of fingernails grazing his skin. His own hand, the hand that’s gripping Dirk’s, smoothly disentangles itself and reaches up to Dirk’s own cheek, hovering over the slant of his cheekbone before settling itself right where his jawline meets his neck.

Todd leans up, not like it’s the last thing he’s going to do, but like it’s the predecessor to the many more times he will do this, and slots his lips against Dirks, feeling the corners of his mouth reach higher and a satisfied sigh escape his lips. Dirk kisses him back, just as sweet and slow. When Todd’s lips separate from Dirk’s, they don’t go far—he presses a kiss to his nose, and to his chin, and to the side of that, his temple. He peppers kisses all across Dirk’s face, almost tasting the sunlight emanating from his lover.

When he breaks away, he still stays close, chest nearly flush against Dirk’s. Blue eyes blink open from beneath trembling eyelids—blue like the sea, blue like the sky on a crisp winter day, blue like bellflowers with dewdrops falling from the petals.

“Hello,” says Dirk, voice like the color of chocolate, smile like the sound of larks.

“Hey,” says Todd, and wishes he could say more, wants to say more, doesn’t _need_ to say more because it’s already enough, the man who is cradling him in his arms as much as he himself is being cradled already knows what he means, and it’s enough—Todd’s enough, Todd’s enough for Dirk, and Dirk is more than enough for Todd, more than enough like a field of wheat after weeks of hunger, stalks rising high and spreading far away into the horizon, like a waterfall after days of drought, Dirk is enough for Todd in the way that he is more than Todd has ever allowed himself to want, and still greater than that, still more and more until Todd can barely feel himself breathe under the force of how much he needs, wants, loves Dirk. “Good morning.”

“Mhm.” Dirk’s chest moves under Todd’s hand in a rolling laugh, like winds billowing over fields and rustling all of the trees in their path. “Did you know,” he says, “did you know, you have the most beautiful hands?”

“Hands?” returns his laugh Todd. “Why hands?”

“I’m not sure,” he says, “but they’re yours, so they’re beautiful. Your, eyes, too. And your lips. You—you’re beautiful. Did you know that?”

Something, somewhere far off in the corner of his mind hisses _lies,_ and is immediately squashed down by Dirk’s loving eyes, and Dirk’s gentle hands, and Dirk’s pink lips curved into a smile meant just for Todd. Todd says, “I guess I’ve might have heard that somewhere before.”

“Oh? From who?”

“From somebody with… the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen. From someone with the biggest heart I’ve ever known. From someone with the prettiest laugh, and the kindest smile, and the most love anyone can carry all stored inside of him.”

“He sounds like a catch.”

Todd laughs again, thumbing at the rise of Dirk’s hip. “He is,” he says, leaning back up to where his lips met Dirk’s, “he really is. And I love him more than anything.” He presses a kiss to the corner of Dirk’s lips.

“I love you, too,” says Dirk, and kisses him again.

He tastes of honeysuckle and the fond devotion caught in glimmering rays of sunlight.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you liked it, and if you did feel free to comment and lmk what you thought!  
> here's my [tumblr](https://farahblack.tumblr.com/)
> 
> i'm really tired (it's 1am as i'm posting this) so feel free to point out any errors! thanks for reading<3


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